When I was in fifth grade I failed the eye test at school and had to get glasses. My mother attributed it to “ruining my eyes” from reading at night by the hallway light when I was supposed to be sleeping. I remember the book I was reading, it was A Wrinkle in Time! I thought that having glasses was kind of cool, and even wore my glasses in my school picture that year, although now I wish that I hadn’t. It was the same year that full length “maxi dresses” were in style too; some trends were just not meant to be! Soon after that, I stopped wearing the glasses only to have to start again when I was in my 40’s, this time for good. My wife has glasses now too, but for whatever reason doesn’t like the heavy prescription ones that cost her a pretty penny so she wears cheaters that accumulate all in one location and are NEVER where she thinks they are when she needs them. I tell her, constantly, that she is missing out on a lot. I know. She doesn’t see half of what I see, especially what’s wrong.

My kids have been home all week during this cold February school vacation. One has been on crutches for a month awaiting results of an MRI which may possibly require surgery, while our son just broke his wrist playing indoor soccer this past Monday. That night, after a trip to the ER, we “family-hobbled” into our older daughter’s basketball game and all I could think of was “please, if there is a spirit protecting us, don’t let her get hurt too!”

The kids could use some fresh air, but they can’t play outside with those injuries and it’s biting cold anyway, so as much as I’d like to shove them out just for the peace and quiet and lock the door, that’s kind of not a real option!

During this vacation it’s been impossible to have a moment of quiet with 3, and sometimes 4 kids (counting the neighbor friend as well), playing, singing, and generally horsing around! Don’t get me wrong, I love the house filled with laughter and music, but when I’ve just cleaned up from 2 different rounds of breakfast to have to start the lunch routine, I get a bit tired of it being ALL ABOUT THEM!

What I’ve learned about myself in the 13 months since I had a “real” job is that I’ve become a nightmare obsessive mother. I do the breakfast routines, pack their lunches and clean up from all of it before I start my day. I clean the grease off the stove, drips off of the drawers and cupboards and I’m the ONLY one who ever cleans the counters and the floors. Sometimes, when the sunlight is coming in perfectly through my dining room, it hits off of the stainless steel fridge and stove and I can’t help myself- I need to clean that too! It sounds perfectly dreadful when I write it, but it’s true…I’ve become an obsessive housewife!

It all started when I was a kid and watched Gilligan’s Island every day. I was a huge fan, and when a crate of radioactive vegetable seeds washed ashore which had some sort of magic powers, Mrs. Howell started moving around in super-fast motion. My sister, Rachael and I used to make plans and get up out of bed after our parents thought we were sleeping and clean our room just as “super-fast”. We’d say “OK, let’s do Mrs. Howell!” and go at it. I became obsessed with my room being organized and clean and then we’d celebrate the next day with a trip to the store and buy a bag of dinner mints and eat them all! It is still on of my favorite memories with her.

The counters in our home are made of a mottled mixture of browns, grays, and black spotted granite. After my last job working at a granite/marble counter top company, I could have told you the name of it, but I no longer care. Where I sit working on my computer from my dining room table most days, I have a view of our counters that allows me to see every crumb and smear of food that one can’t see even if standing next to the counter. It’s impossible to see anything on it unless you get eye-level to it and look at the reflection across the surface. My wife gets very irritated when I’ll ask her from my perch at my computer to please wipe up the crumbs on the counter in front of the toaster oven, because I just know they’re going to get swiped on the floor any minute and, well, I’m even more of a bear about “my floors!” It’s the crunching of crumbs that drive me nuts and the spills of juice that no one ever sees or admits to, never mind wipes up! But don’t get me started…

Again back to my childhood…my mother used to say that I always knew where everything was. It was true-I did! She’d call me up at college and ask me where things were. I always knew where things were because I saw things and stored that information even if I didn’t need it. I also was a very curious child which got me into some trouble and probably will continue to until I die, but I’d rather be a curious sort than complacent, any day!

So, here I was last night, sitting next to my wife enjoying a TV show together, when she moves her hand across my face and then backtracks to my chin again, flipping her finger over a spot where a chin-hair is obviously poking out. Well, that got me started on having to find and remove that damn hair. If you’re a woman under 35, you probably have no idea what’s in store for you as you age. No, no one ever tells you that you have these whiskers, and if you have impaired eyesight already, it’s unlikely that you would ever notice them on others. Hence, my own wife, (who is my first defense(after me) against publicly humiliating myself as one of those old women with chin hairs) can’t see anything!

Staring at the elusive “hair on my chin” in the mirror…I realized that the light on “my side” of the bathroom where my sink is only illuminates the left side of my face. For about 6 years, since we’ve been in this particular house, I’ve been at a disadvantage! No wonder I have chin hairs that are growing on the right side of my face! So, now that I can see them, they do exist, but before, they didn’t bother me at all nor did anyone ever let me know!

As I viewed my face in the mirror, tweezers at the ready, I pondered many aspects of obsession. If I was blind, and I couldn’t be so bothered by the drips of ice cream on the cupboards and the floor, or the food splattered in the microwave, or the multitude of other dirty things that bother me, would I actually be a less stressed-out person? I’m sure I’d complain less, which brings me back to my last blog entry, my experiment with trying to go a week without complaining. I failed. I can’t do it. I admit that it is near-impossible for me to not have issues with something everyday. And, the other thing I realized is that even though I’ve asked for my family to help gently point out my complaining to me, they don’t notice, which says something else which I’m not planning to delve into at this time. I’ve concluded that if I can’t even recognize that I’m doing it, I can’t really improve on something that I don’t know that I’m doing.

What I have tried to do instead is just try to be more positive. Thinking more positive thoughts daily is an improvement and what I can commit to. Taking time to be still and quiet and clear my mind… yes, I can commit to that. I’m trying to let things go more…to see but to not obsess as much. Hopefully soon, I can work on not looking so deeply at things and so much that I only see what I need to see. It’s extremely hard to unlearn something that has served me well as a multi-tasking, over-achieving business person and a mom. These days, everything seems hard.